Wow wow wow, who knew a weekend of Americana could be so therapeutic. I feel like I could live off hay rides and 4000 calories a day. After two days in southeastern PA, I am basically a Mennonite. Or at least I understand a bit more about them besides just, “no technology!!!! Ahhh!!!”
Here is what my Fourth was filled with: The Kutztown Folk Festival (complete with hoedown, Irish folk dance, fiddle playing families, sheep shearing, Mennonite lecture, vintage farm equipment tour, and ox roast), Reading Phillies baseball game, good old fashioned fireworks, and roughly enough food to feed a family of five Mennonites for a week.
It was probably the most Americana-filled two days of my life. And of course the icing on the cake was that today we drove around the small towns just north of Lancaster, which are almost 100 percent Amish/Mennonite. Craig and I had a fit every time we saw plain clothes hanging on clotheslines or boys in straw hats biking by. We honestly tried to be as respectful as possible, but it was like we had never seen a horse and buggy before.
When I think about what it’s like to get an email every minute or blow out my hair every morning, I’m rather tempted to say adios technology and hello windmill. Until then, I’ll just venture to the hills every now and again and remember that there was life before the iphone.
PS – this post is dedicated to Stacey and her awesome fear of the Amish.
Craig manning the Ox roast. You know, just another Fourth of July tradition.
The most patriotic horse in America is clearly to be found at the Kutztown folk festival.
Oh that hat! But even better, the woman in the bonnet holding a club. If that's not scary enough, check out the tattoo on her arm.
Mennonites at the fair. Craig and I also listened to a lecture on the history of Mennonites for a good 15 minutes. So basically I am ready to give up J. Crew clothing and all electronics for five minutes a week.
While I am DYING to post my pictures of today’s ridiculous Americana-inspired activities (hoedown and sheep shearing all in one day?), I forgot to bring my camera cord to Pennsylvania and will have to save that post for tomorrow. So! I will instead thank the company that made the insanely huge jacuzzi that is sitting in my room in Amish country, PA. It’s about as Amish feeling as a microwave, but my urban self is loving it. It’s about the size of an Olympic swimming pool and is close enough to my bed that I can just slither on in between naps. And when filled with a pound of Mr. Bubble, it’s a bit like bathing on a cloud.
I love bathtubs. I could sit in a large tin can with a book for hours and be totally amused. As a child, I used to fill an empty bathtub with pillows, rest a few ham sandwiches on the edge and stay in there for hours reading tween-lit. Now, the tub in my room has jets, so it makes me think more about my high school boyfriend’s outdoor jacuzzi, where half of Northwest Washington went skinny dipping in their teenage years. Another not very Amish move.
Whatever shape it comes in, I’m happy to soak in a tub for hours. Add a glass of wine and I may stay in until my skin sloughs off like a rattlesnake.
Tomorrow, Craig and I are going horse and buggy chasing and then I may be inspired to renounce all possessions that require an electrical charge. But until then, I’ll be in the tub.
My jacuzzi was not at the foot of the Alps, but I think in the bedroom is almost as good. Plus, I kind of felt like I should be in a Hip-Hop video.
Last year I was in Lima, Peru for the Fourth, which was wonderful but about as American as a cricket match. So I’m thrilled to be here this year, and not only here, but on my way to Kutztown, PA, the land of sheep shearing and Mennonite weddings!
As a kid, I spent many a Fourth at a local park nearby stuffing my self with barbecued meats, painting my entire face red, white and blue and trying to knock adults into a dunk tank. Then of course, as I grew up around DC, we would load into my mom’s Volvo station wagon and head to the National Mall to sit elbow to elbow with tourists and ou and ah at fireworks. It was a bit like a patriotic mosh pit, but I remember thinking the fireworks where the coolest thing that ever hit our skies.
Later in life, I would head down to the Mall with friends to watch the fireworks somewhat intoxicated. I think I may even have waded into the Reflecting Pool Forest Gump style once or twice, but I still thought the fireworks above the Washington Monument were amazing.
This year, I’ll be waving my flag in good old Kutztown which I’m just thrilled about. I never really appreciate how nice our flag is like I do on the Fourth. So thanks to the ghost of Miss Ross and thanks to Kutztown. I’m not there yet, but I already know that this little town will provide me with one of the most memorable Independence Days ever. Happy Fourth!
The babe behind the stars and stripes. Little did she know that her creation would inspire the fashion below…
A nice American flag jogging ensemble! Who wouldn’t want to sweat it out while also being patriotic.
Say happy 4th of July everyday with this striking gown!
The most famous stars and stripes bikini we have seen in a decade - the fake Palin bikini babe shot. It may be photoshoped but she does look very patriotic (and gun crazed).
I love the Fourth. It’s probably my favorite holiday — there’s just something so downright wholesome about it. First of all, I don’t feel guilty for not going to church — so immediately, this holiday begins better than some of the other biggies like Christmas or Easter. Plus, people do things like BBQ and have bike parades and eat hot dogs at the pool. It’s good clean fun — unless of course, you find yourself peeing your bed or barfing on your cute new red, white, and blue outfit — which I have certainly done on one or two past Independence Days.
Yet on this Fourth of July, I am sober as a Carmelite nun and realize as such, I’m much more prone to think about the deeper meaning of this wonderful holiday, rather than to just mindlessly enjoy watching people blow stuff up with a beer in hand. In fact, I thought it was appropriate to give thanks for all the quintessential American things that I love — among them the song American Pie — one of my all time favorites. It seems to be the perfect background music for a day where everything great about the United States is celebrated.
This weekend, Grey and I have tried to honor those good things by reveling in our Americanism. And though I couldn’t convince him to dress up in his old Navy duds (”Stacey, you know that’s illegal.” Booooooorrrrring!), Grey did agree to join Ollie and I in our town’s 4th of July parade as a family of tomatoes for the Farmer’s Market float. We figured nothing could show our patriotic side quite like pretending we’re a familial caprese salad while marching down the street with tuba players, tractors, and fire trucks. Tonight we’ll wait until the cloak of darkness falls and then light everything that’s even semi-flammable on fire and watch it explode. God Bless the USA!!!
Oh Don. Your ditty is one of the only songs (besides Snoop Dogg's Lodi Dodi) that I know all the lyrics to! Happy Fourth!
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